Psychosis
by Sasukeluva 4eva
Summary: "How far-gone is he?"..."Honestly? He's about one screw away from joining a box of Fruit Loops, Sakura-chan." She should have stayed away, for those crazed crimson eyes and that terrifying manic smile were slowly infecting her mind and body, lulling her into his world of ceaseless psychosis. WARNING: EXTREMELY EXPLICIT CONTENT. NOT FOR THE FAINTHEARTED. Please Read & Review!


**a/n: An idea that occurred to me while cleaning my house…**

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**Author's Justification:** _Such disturbing aspects are left unexplained and unexplored in the lives of those who wish to shield themselves from things that are considered to be unnatural human behaviour, but what of those that suffer such conditions on a day to day basis, for all of their time on earth? _

_Who could ever comprehend the complexities of their minds, the misconceptions of those accused of being inhumane? What if they could not help themselves, the impulses… too strong to control? _

_These are questions that I have asked myself as I concocted this plot, and although it is sure to cause conflict, controversy and upset, I felt it essential to explore the deepest depths of severe mental illness, in its most violent and potent of forms. It is the least I can do for those that remain unseen, unheard and discarded by a society too ignorant and fearful of the unknown and incurable. _

_They are the special additions to our world, and though not all of what they do is good, they still deserve a chance at a better life. This story unveils the cruel and harsh reality of how "normal" people deal with the presence of these "outsiders", and how such alienation spawns a darker truth from within…_

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**WARNING:  
Torture, Rape, Abuse, Paedophilia—NOT FOR THE FAINTHEARTED!  
Also, long ending remark at end—please do read it, and do not take it to heart, those of you whom are good and faithful readers and reviewers who ACTUALLY like my stories (that in and of itself is a miraculous, well, miracle). (:**

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**Disclaimer: IDNON, BIDHTOS! That is all.**

**C**a_t_**e**g_o_**r**i_e_**s:** Horror/Suspense/Tragedy/Angst/Slight Romance

**R**a_t_**i**n_g_**:** R (M by 's standard)

**P**a_i_**r**i_n_**g**s**:** Sasuke x Sakura, One-sided Naruto x Sasuke, Naruto x Hinata, Sasuke x Itachi, Fugaku x Sasuke (rape/abuse)

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**S**ummary:

_"How far-gone is he?"  
"Honestly? He's about one screw away from joining a box of Fruit Loops, Sakura-chan."  
She should have stayed away, for those crazed crimson eyes and that terrifying manic smile were slowly infecting her mind and body, lulling her into his world of ceaseless psychosis._

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**S**a_s_**u**k_e_**l**u_v_**a** 4_e_**v**a _p_**r**e_s_**e**n_t_**s;**

_**Psychosis**_

_Sasuke x Sakura Horror Fanfic_

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**_Psychosis_**—Noun—**Origins; **_Mid-19__th__ Century Greece, derived from "psukhosis" ("animation"), "psukoo" ("I give life to"), "psukhe" ("soul/mind")—  
"_Psyche" = "the soul and mind", "Osis" = "abnormal condition/**derangement**"—

_**Definition:**__**A severe mental disorder in which thought and emotions are so impaired that contact is lost with external reality.**_

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_._

_.._

_Bleed for thy sins, impetuous wretch made of malcontent_

_For the fate of torturous death_

_Is what awaits thee at thine end_

_Speak not, see not, hear not, exist not_

_For mine endearing psychosis reaps thee completely wrought_

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**P**_.r.o.l.o.g.u.e._

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_.._

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"_BloodbloodbloodbloodbloodBLO OD…!"_

A harsh, grating outbreath spilling from between rasping, ragged breaths filled the stagnant silence with eerie intonations of mechanical sound, the autonomous cursing falling upon deaf ears, merely reverberating off of the cold, stark walls of his cell.

It stood apart from the rest, defined by the desolate nature of its purposeful, deliberate isolation, the voidness of all sane life forms within its secured, padded confines.

Whitewashed and monotonously cold—just like its inhabitant, whose face was blackened with wretched shadows, but whose eyes glinted vermillion through the haze.

Madness.

That was what it was, the expression in their spiralling depths, on his visage; what made up the ceaseless chaos of his distorted mind.

Ah, but he lived it, this toxic state of derangement, with relish.

Sanity was overrated, hardly made him feel this good, this _ALIVE_.

No physical pleasure could compare to the inner anarchy, the tangibly non-existent state of normalcy, of his twisted musings, that made him into the monstrous creature he had become since his descent into blissful psychosis.

Never would he revisit the planes of his traumatic upbringing, his discoloured past self, for that would mean the end of his existence as he knew it; and that, he would not tolerate.

Whatever he had to do to ensure his instability remained intact, to preserve and retain his perpetual insanity, he would do without hesitation or regard for the repercussions; he had demonstrated as much in all of the times he had taken innocent bystanders prisoner, taunted and mocked them for their weaknesses and faults, before stringing them out along suspended butchers hooks (pinned through the very flesh of their backs) and torturing them relentlessly, emotionally, mentally and physically, into insanity—_his_ insanity.

It was an invigorating process, in actuality.

The bloodcurdling (ah, that word again, so sweet on the lips, so easy on the tongue, so very _beautiful_) screams of agony and despair, the splattered innards, the pleas for mercy and forgiveness, the putrid smell of decay, the _BLOOD_.

All of it he has taken pleasure in, indulgence like no other fattening his ego and setting aflame the embers of his shattered, fragmented mentality.

Such heightened gratification only ascended further into an inferno of orgasmic rapture with the knowledge that no one would _EVER_ know, know the _TRUE_ extent of his brutality, his crime, his _MADNESS_.

They had not caught him out on _the rest_—yes, maybe for _her_, for her death had to have been his finest concocted masterpiece, an artwork that he had envisioned for so _very long_ within the shattered titbits of his brain and brought to life upon an exquisite canvas of chainsaws and ice-picks and machetes and barbed wire, framed eternally in his personal gallery and strung up by the remnants of her rotting skeleton.

HE HAD GOTTEN AWAY WITH IT.

The only one who _knew_ was _him_, and he could relive their torment over and over (his psychosis allowed him such a decadent pastime) within his mind's eye, while their loved ones mourned for the offspring that they no longer had in their lives.

Oh, but that wasn't even the best part, not even close, not even _close_!

It was knowing that they _didn't _know what had become of their children, their siblings and their friends and lovers in turn, that the "authorities" (no one outside of his own mind held such a position, for anyone "outside" of his reality did not exist at all; there were merely poltergeists finding solace in the morbid painting that he had created with his own two hands) didn't even know, were not even aware, that there was _**MORE THAN ONE**_, that made the vicious beast within him purr and growl and keen in satisfaction.

The only physical reaction that he believed could ever emulate such a resonant response being the roughest of violent orgasms, attained usually from the young ones that threw themselves at his feet, his mercy—irrespective of sex or gender.

As long as they had a hole he could violate, rape and fuck, he was happy.

Even if he had to make one himself (a process that he found stimulated a heated climax also).

He leaned back against the hard wall alongside his bed, to which he was further chained down by burdensome, weighty steel shackles, the white straightjackets (everything had become so black and white, his hair being the only driving force retaining that in which he so avidly wished he could set alight, and then delight in the disturbing sight of watching all of his former self burning away with the flickering embers into nothing but empty ashes) tugging in disagreeable knots against his restrained skin until the taut material was scratching uncomfortably at his raw flesh, leather binds fixed so tightly that they bit ruthlessly into the folds of his hunched form.

Again there was mania written as plain as day across his hidden face, one of which possessed ethereal, unearthly beauty—a deceptive ploy, an effective guise.

An equally unstable chuckle left the depths of his chest, rumbling humourlessly, and yet giving birth to a new breed of darkness in the black of the room.

Only faint light from outside and the memory of _before_ gave him any indication of what colour the room was.

This time though, he had not constructed such a tasteless shade in his portrait.

It was the product of a reality that he would never acknowledge as _"real"_, as his world was full, in ripe abundance, of pretty colours, like red and crimson and scarlet and vermillion and did he mention _the_ _red_?

Such foolhardy jackasses, the lot of them, so easily tricked by a pretty face, a false smile, so easily killed and disposed of without a trace.

A caustic smile left unseen, an amused flicker in the dormant holes of his vacant eyes, the soft smell of cherry blossoms in the springtime, filtering precariously into his over-sensitised nostrils.

The air freshener of choice, this month, by order of the blonde bag of bones in the very pits of his closet; he really needed to clear the dust out of her skull.

She was _CLEARLY_ gaining clarity in his disorder, and this he did not like or appreciate in the slightest bit.

The offending nostrils flared angrily in response to the sickeningly sweet, stomach-turning odour, an odour that brought distant, long forgotten memories, _dreams_, unbidden to his mind.

Pink and green, pink and green, swirling together and feeding the hunger within his tormented, fractured and very much so broken soul (he thought to get a refund, but he doubted the dancing wind would stop to consider his request).

A wilted flower that he wished to dye red.

Colours whose happiness needed to be extinguished by torture, pain and death.

Ah… pink and green, how I'd love to stain you with my sins and bring you into blissful insanity too.

_"BLOOD!"_

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**_.._**

**_.:LET US DANCE INTO INSANITY_**_ TOGE__THER:._

_**...Night**_ 00**_ Complete..._**

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**Ending Remarks:** **LONG NOTE BUT PLEASE READ IT!  
**  
_Well, as this is technically only a prologue, I doubt I really needed to establish any more than I already have (as much as you may or may not have liked), but I suppose that is the charm of such an opener; it gives a glimpse of what is yet to come, and creates interest in the reader, which I hope that I have sparked with relative success?_

_Anyway, I will make it EXCEEDINGLY clear here that THIS IS A HORROR FIC, NOT A LOVEY-DOVEY FLUFF FIC. CUTE AND "FLUFFY" ANIMALS ARE TORTURED, RAPED AND KILLED HERE (okay, maybe **not** the "rape" part; there are impressionable youths on here WHO SHOULD NOT BE READING THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE that may or may not report me for fictional animal cruelty, and could very well accuse me of such acts in real life)._

_But seriously guys, this in all likelihood, will be a COMPLETE GORE-FEST, WITH BLOOD AND GUTS AND THE WORKS. Thus why this is not meant for the fainthearted. If you want the usual "lovey-dovey" crap,__**find another fic**—THIS ONE IS NOT (and I cannot stress this enough) FOR YOU._

_Be happy and content and STILL SANE and leave before I rot your brain with angst and senseless human abuse. DO NOT WHINGE/BITCH/FLAME AND OR COMPLAIN._

_I have given apt warning of future content (IN CAPSLOCK; I HAVE RAPED THIS FUNCTION IN ORDER TO GET THROUGH TO YOU. SEE HOW SERIOUS I AM? FUCKIN' OATH I AM!), and I swear to fucking GOD, if you do persist, I will hunt you down, trigger happy and all, and blow your fucking brains out._

_HAVE WE REACHED AN UNDERSTANDING YET, OR DO I HAVE TO DRAW A FUCKING DIAGRAM AS WELL?_

_Excuse the rage and sarcasm; that is directed at those of you who have taken to abusing the FUCK out of not only my stories and my writing (I AM NOT A PRO, SO CUT ME SOME SLACK), but ME as an anonymous individual on this site. NOT to my lovely readers that I completely adore! (:_

_Go on with your lives as you would, with my respect, and not my biting cynicism._

_Now, on a more positive note! I am back on my break, so I will hopefully have more time (and ideas) to write, so look forward to updates (again, "hopefully")._  
_Chapter 19 of HHS (that is "High School Scandal" in case you are new to me and or have forgotten what the acronym stands for) is currently underway, so please do look out for that. ;)_

_If you liked this, let me know! Please review! I hold you at ransom for 10 if you like and want to see more! (:_

_If not, then it will be discontinued or taken down in case of any offense that it will probably cause. Other than that, yeah!_  
_If you are a first time reader, welcome!_  
_If not, welcome **back**!_

_Please do check out my other horror fics while you're here! :D_

_***Alone on the Tenth Mile**__ (Chapter 7 is currently underway: __**5%**__ complete at this point in time… I **said** it would be long!)  
__***The Taken**__ (reader response to this has been dismal, so please do leave some feedback on whether or not I should leave it as a oneshot, or continue it on)  
__***Jack The Ripper**__ (I do intend to update this… eventually… :/)_

_Happy Hunting!_

_Ja mata ne! x)_

~**R**i_n_


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